Worm: Homecoming
by Zero-metallix
Summary: The streets of Brockton Bay felt strange as they walked through them. Alien and familiar all at the same time. This had been her home all her life, yet now, after only a few months away, it felt different somehow. After six months on the run, a message from Brian brings the Undersiders back to Brockton Bay, where everything has changed.
1. Chapter 1

Homecoming

1-1

The drug dealer stood at the far end of the alley, sheltered from the wind and casual observance, but visible enough should a buyer show up. He was oblivious to my presence as I crouched in the shadow of a dumpster at the other end of the alley, my back pressed up against the wall.

"You _sure_ this is the right guy?" I whispered.

"Of course I'm sure!" Tattletale hissed over the radio. "Now hurry up, his supplier will be coming by soon."

Mentally cursing, I looked around the dumpster. The dealer still had his back to me and I could see the glow of a phone screen in the dark alley.

That was sloppy. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings and the light from his phone would have destroyed his nightvision.

'Is he just careless, or confident?' I thought to myself. Just in case, I assumed confident.

Twisting my wrist caused the collapsed miniature crossbow on my forearm to spring open, and I carefully loaded a bolt. It had been specially designed by me, and was closer to a flying syringe than an arrow. On impact, it would inject its contents into the target.

I'd been inspired by the arrows Shadow Stalker - a 'hero'- used after she had tried, and failed, to shoot me with one.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my aim. I didn't have the resources needed to make many of these bolts and had to be very careful not to waste them.

My finger twitched and the crossbow fired with a quiet twang. The bolt arced through the air and I mentally swore as it slammed into the soft flesh of the dealer's backside.

I'd been aiming for his _shoulder_.

The dealer made a noise somewhere between a scream and a curse. Spinning to face me, he ignored the bolt lodged in his body and pulled a pistol from the waist of his jeans with his free hand, his phone clattering to the floor.

"Who's there?!" he shouted, squinting into the dark. I stayed still, pressing myself against the dumpster and counting the seconds in my head.

"Come out!" He took a step forward, only for his legs to collapse under him as the sedative in the bolt took effect.

I heard him grunt as he hit the floor. Leaning out from behind the dumpster, I risked another look.

The dealer was trying to push himself up on arms that were trembling. His pistol was a foot away and his movements were sluggish.

Stepping into view, I drew a collapsible baton and carefully approached him as his arms went limp and he fell face first to the ground. I counted another twenty seconds in my head just to be sure he was down. I wasn't going to risk him playing dead.

Moving closer, I turned his head slightly so his airway was clear. "Fuk'bish," he muttered, glaring at me through heavy lids as I lifted his pistol from the floor and - after unloading the magazine and checking the safety - slipped it into my pocket.

I tapped my radio. "Okay, I've got him."

A minute later, a grey panel van pulled up by the alley entrance and Grue jumped out. He barely glanced at me as he lifted the dealer up, throwing him over a shoulder and carrying him into the back of the van.

I hesitated briefly, only just remembering to snatch up the fallen cell phone before climbing into the front of the van. No one would ever know we were here.

Slipping into the front seat next to Tattletale, I let out a sigh of relief as she calmly put the van into gear and drove us away.

##

_24 hours earlier._

Stepping off the bus, I was unable to resist the urge to touch the ends of my short, _red_, hair.

"You look fine," Lisa said with a grin that didn't reach her eyes. Her own hair was black and her dark sunglasses glinted in the light.

"Why _red_?" I hissed.

"Because I'm not pale enough to pull it off?" she said with a shrug. "Besides, you said it would wash out."

"It will!" I repositioned the small rucksack on my shoulder. There wasn't much inside, but one of the shampoo bottles contained a chemical that would take the dye off in minutes without any lasting damage. But still, _red? _

Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she turned and walked away. Sighing, I followed behind her, trying to look at everything at once.

After all this time, we were finally back in Brockton Bay, my home, and yet everything felt wrong.

I wanted to relax, to be happy. But instead all I could think was 'is that a gang tag, are those police officers or just security, was that a gunshot?'

My thoughts chased themselves in circles, never giving me a moment to relax.

"This was a mistake…" I muttered, trying and failing not to flinch as someone suddenly raised an arm in greeting to a friend.

Shaking her head, Lisa slowed, falling in step with me.

Hooking her arm through mine, she bumped me gently with her hip, the smile on her face clearly fake to me, but I doubted anyone around us could tell. Lisa was surprisingly good at putting up a front.

"Yes, it was, but we're here now and you need to relax." Lisa leaned her head against my shoulder as we walked. "Even _if_ some one did recognise us. No one's going to do anything _here._"

"I guess your-"

"They'll wait until we're out of sight, _then_ shoot us," she chirped.

I huffed, giving her a glare rather than say anything.

"Seriously though Taylor, you need to calm down. Being all tense and nervous is just going to draw attention. As far as anyone knows, we're just a couple of girls walking down the street."

She gave me a smile, a real one this time, the first I'd seen since the argument and I felt my resistance crumbling.

"... Fine. But if someone shoots at us, I'm blaming you."

"Eh, that's fair. Now come on, we need to pick up-"

Her phone beeped from her pocket. It had been going off almost non-stop since we got on the bus last night.

"-or we can see what Brian wants," Lisa said through clenched teeth.

##

What Brian wanted, it turned out, was to meet up immediately and not tomorrow like we had originally planned.

We hadn't heard from him since we left the city. It had been his idea to leave and he had ordered us all to go separate ways, cutting off communication in the process. Lisa had ignored him, insisting the two of us, at least, stick together.

He'd been angry, but it wasn't like he had time to really argue.

Then, months later, Brian had messaged us both on PHO. Just a short, terse, request for us to meet with him.

The meeting point was at a small diner in a row of shops that were currently unclaimed by any of the gangs. It was also the same diner where Lisa had recruited me.

Lisa had said no at first. That it was too risky, that none of us should be in Brockton Bay. It was the first real argument Lisa and I ever had. Months alone together and we'd never done worse than bicker.

'_I should probably apologise'. _Some of the things I'd said…

I didn't really know what happened after that. I think Brian sent Lisa something privately, because the very next day she told me she'd changed her mind.

When we reached the diner, Brian was already waiting outside for us. He was leaning against a wall, arms crossed as he looked up and down the street. He didn't even look twice at us as we hesitated on the other side of the road.

I didn't have Lisa's intuition, but I'd learned enough to at least gauge a crowd. Brian was getting some odd looks from passersby, who were also giving him a lot of space, but that wasn't unusual.

Brian was big, taller than me and very muscular; he wasn't someone who got hassled in the streets.

Beyond that, no one seemed to be paying him more attention than usual. There were no suspicious vans or cars with tinted windows and no one in gang colours.

"Lets go," Lisa muttered, then walked across the road, her shoulders hunched.

Brian finally noticed us as we reached his side of the road. He frowned, for a moment, before his eyes widened in recognition. Pushing himself off the wall, he opened his mouth to say something but Lisa beat him to it.

Barely stopping, she swung for him. The enhancements I'd given her meant her hand was little more than a blur, her open palm hitting his cheek with a crack that echoed through the street and jerked his head to the side. Someone nearby audibly gasped.

"For the record," Lisa hissed, pointing a warning finger at him, "that's all I 'owe' you!"

Brian stared dumbly at her, one hand tenderly touching his jaw. Around us, people were stopping to stare, no doubt hoping for a show.

"Come on Taylor." Lisa turned on her heel and marched into the diner. I followed closely behind her, looking over my shoulder at Brian in confusion.

Sure, the team had split up, but it hadn't been on 'bad' terms. Had something else happened between the two of them?

We took a seat at a booth at the far end of the diner. Lisa sat with her back to the wall so she could watch anyone who came in and I sat next to her. We had barely sat down when Brian walked in and took the empty seat opposite.

No one said anything as a waitress came and took our orders - two coffees and tea - and Lisa and I slipped out of our coats.

Lisa's handprint on his cheek aside, Brian looked rough. In the brief time I'd known him, he'd never looked anything but well groomed, with his hair in neat cornrows, his face cleanly shaved and tasteful clothes. Now, however, his jaw was covered in stubble that was bordering on a full beard, his eyes bloodshot and darkly ringed. His clothes looked like he'd been sleeping in them.

"You both look… good," he said eventually, his eyes lingering on my exposed arms.

Lisa scoffed, but I tried not to preen at the compliment. It had taken a lot of work to make the formula work. Increasing muscle density without causing rampant, _cancerous_, growth wasn't easy.

"That's not the word you mean," Lisa said with a smirk, bumping my leg playfully with hers. "Why are we here Brian?"

"You haven't already figured it out?" he snapped, faint wisps of smoke coming from his hands.

"Of course I have, but I want you to explain it to Taylor. You _owe_ her that after all."

The two glared at each other, neither one giving an inch, not even when a nervous waitress approached and placed down our drinks.

"Oh for fuck sake," I muttered, "look, both of you need to grow up. We've been sitting on a bus since last night. If one of you doesn't start explaining, I'm going to find a hotel and get some sleep!"

It was an empty threat and Lisa, at least, knew it. I wouldn't dare walk around alone right now.

Thankfully, Brian didn't know that. He deflated, suddenly looking even more tired, and reached into a pocket. He removed a piece of paper and placed it on the table.

It was a picture, creased and dog eared, of a girl that was maybe a bit younger than me. She was nearly Brian's mirror, as feminine as he was masculine, with high cheekbones and a long neck. Despite her obvious attractiveness, her clothes screamed 'trashy' in the worst way.

"That's my sister." Brian's voice was thick, like he was struggling to get the words out. "She's been missing for nearly a month now and… I need your help finding her."

##

The streets of Brockton Bay felt strange as we walked through them. Alien and familiar all at the same time. This had been my home all my life, yet now, after only a few months away, it felt different somehow.

Was it something in the city, or was it me that had changed?

"Turn right up here," Lisa said, glancing at a map on her phone. She had taken my arm in hers again. Probably an effort to keep me calm.

"Did you know Brian had a sister?"

"Of course." She chuckled. "I know everything."

I smiled despite myself. That was an old joke between us. "Why did neither of you _tell me_?"

Lisa stopped and lowered her phone, looking at me for the first time since we left the dinner.

"It… wasn't my place," she said with a shrug. "I know how cold that sounds, but you need to remember, Brian was always a private person. He never mentioned Aisha to anyone but me or the boss… he won't say it, but I think she was part of his trigger."

'Triggering' was what happened when people got powers. Mine had been in a locker filled with filth and I couldn't imagine willingly telling people I barely knew about it. Just the thought of it made me shiver.

I stayed silent and we carried on walking. Following Lisa's instructions, we soon ended up outside a small postal depot. Lisa had barely glanced at the building and the people around before announcing it safe and pulling me inside.

I wasn't sure this had been necessary. We could have just loaded our stuff on the bus, but Lisa had insisted on having it shipped separately. That way, she'd said, if anything went wrong, it couldn't be linked back to us.

Personally, I just thought she got a kick out of all this 'cloak and dagger' crap.

The bored teen behind the counter barely glanced at our fake identification before vanishing into the back room.

"Do you think she's even alive?" I finally asked the question I hadn't dared say around Brian.

Brockton Bay wasn't safe. The homeless were easy pickings for gangs or random psychos, and there were even rumours that one of the gangs routinely kidnapped young girls and forced them into slavery.

Aisha was young, attractive and according to Brian, impulsive. A serial runaway whose mother had died of a drug overdose. What chance did she have realistically?

"I..." Lisa sighed. Whatever anger had been driving her seemed to have burned itself out. "My power says she's dead. It's been too long, the odds of her being alive are…" she trailed off, biting her lip.

"We survived."

She snorted. "Trust me, we had it _easy_. We both had the advantage of powers, and it wasn't the first time I've lived on the streets. But you're right, she might still be alive."

I tried not to think too hard about that. Our first few weeks on the street had been rough. What little money we had hadn't lasted long and we couldn't risk drawing attention to ourselves. We got attacked by other homeless people, nearly starved and Lisa picked up a nasty infection that I'd struggled to cure without a real workshop.

After the first month, I'd stopped caring whenever she stole someone's wallet.

If that was 'easy', I dreaded to think what Aisha was dealing with.

Looking up from her phone, Lisa opened her mouth to say something, but cut herself off with a shake of her head and a glance towards the door to the back of the depot. The door swung open and the boy from before returned with two wheeled cases in his arms.

Lisa took a moment to examine both cases before signing for them and we walked back outside.

I rolled my neck, letting the sunlight warm my face. "So… what's the plan?"

"In order of priority," she said, turning and leading me down the street. "First, we find a place to stay. Then we'll need money and information. We really need to know what's changed while we've been away and find out if any of Coil's old contacts are still around and maybe a good place for a workshop for you. I have-"

She was interrupted by the sound of her stomach growling loudly enough that we both heard it. I quickly stifled a laugh as Lisa blushed. With everything Brian had told us, neither of us had felt like eating at the diner.

"Okay, change of plans," Lisa said, giving me a mock glare. "Place to stay, food, then work."

##

In the end, we didn't go far from the depot; just a few blocks over to an old hotel. From the outside, it wasn't very impressive — faded walls, cracked paint and a sign that had seen better days. But it sat in an unclaimed area of the city which made it a safer choice.

At least, it _had_ been an unclaimed area. A small gang tag that I didn't recognise had been painted on the door frame.

"Well," Lisa muttered at the sight of it, "that might be a problem…"

"Should we find somewhere else?"

"No, it's fine. They shouldn't be interested in us anyway." With a shrug, she walked inside.

Not that I really cared. We had stayed in worse places. Ratty motels by the side of the road, homeless shelters, even a church once.

Things were better now. We had some money between us and ways to make more if things got really bad. It wasn't much, but we could at least afford a few nights in motels that, usually, weren't bug-infested.

I'd still created my own bug spray regardless.

To my surprise, the inside of the hotel was warm and inviting. The walls and furniture were clearly old, but everything was clean and the silver-haired old woman behind the counter smiled as we walked in.

As Lisa spoke to the receptionist, I looked around, making note of the windows and fire exits in case we needed to leave in a hurry.

As we were led towards our rooms, we passed a few other people. Most of them were men around Dad's age, some of them in worn or crumpled suits. They all had the same tired expression, and Lisa quietly explained that most of them were businessmen travelling for work.

Tired, in a hurry, and probably not too worried about the people around them. They likely wouldn't look twice at either of us and if they did… well, I wasn't worried about _that_.

Our room was like the rest of the hotel. Old, but clean and functional. We had a single room with two beds. That didn't bother me like it would have once.

"I asked them to bring up some food," Lisa said, poking around inside a closet. "If you're quick, you can grab a shower before it gets here."

"How did you know about this place?"

She shrugged. "Some of Coil's men mentioned it. Not all of them stayed in the barracks. He didn't like having them all in one place."

"Is it _safe_ here?"

"Oh, sure. He paid well, but they didn't really _like_ him. Those that weren't arrested left the city as soon as he died."

"And what about the tag outside?"

"We'll be fine. Just don't start a fight nearby and _don't_ set anything on fire."

"That wasn't my fault!" My cheeks grew hot. My last workshop had gone up in flames when someone had snuck in looking for drugs and ended up knocking over some jars of chemicals that reacted badly with each other. And the air. And the wooden table.

"You are so easy," Lisa said with a laugh. She was still grinning when I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, it was hard to deny that it felt good to be home again. Maybe I'd get the chance to speak to Dad at some point? We hadn't parted on the best of terms after all.

All we needed was time and a little luck.

* * *

AN: Chapter commissioned by Laioken

If you enjoy my content and would like to support me, please consider supporting me on patron (look for MetallixMiscellaneous).


	2. Chapter 2

Homecoming 1-2

"I still say we should just string him up by his neck and be done with it," Grue — Brian — almost growled as he glared at the dealer.

Just for tonight, we had taken over an abandoned warehouse close to Empire territory and put our costumes on. The unconscious dealer was tied to a chair in the middle of the empty room with Brian looming over him.

Trying not to sigh, I focused on my work. In front of me, some glass beakers bubbled away on hotplates that were being powered by a rented generator. Part of me longed for a real lab, with centrifuges and climate control, or at the very least, accurate scales.

As it was, I was stuck doing the best I could with improvised tools and whatever chemicals I could distil from common products like cleaners, alcohols and whatever food had been in the plastic bag Grue had brought with him.

"If we kill him" —Tattletale's voice was thick with sarcasm as she adjusted her waistcoat— "we won't _learn_ anything."

The waistcoat and corset Lisa had added to her costume were new, something to more closely match my plague doctor-like costume. I wasn't entirely sure it worked, but I was grateful for the attempt anyway.

A small egg timer dinged, and I lifted two of the beakers off a hotplate. I poured the contents of one into an old tin can filled with cold water, flinching as the two liquids steamed and spat.

Leaving that mess to cool further, I poured the other beaker into three cheap plastic mugs, topping one of them up with a clear liquid from a small vase I'd found.

"Tea's up!" I tried to sound as cheerful as possible as I picked up two of the cups and took them to the others. Tattletale took hers without complaint, but Grue hesitated to take the doctored cup.

"What's… in this?" he said.

"It's a stimulant." I rolled my eyes, confident he couldn't see them behind my mask. "Mostly caffeine, sugar and such. It's not as good as sleep, but it'll keep you on your feet for a couple more hours."

After which he'd crash hard and sleep for most of the day, but he didn't need to know that. Tattletale hid her smirk behind her cup.

Removing the painted bike helmet that made up his mask, Grue took a few tentative sips and I went back to my bench, where the stuff in the tin had finally cooled enough that I could draw it into a syringe.

"Where did you get those?" Grue asked, the bags under his eyes fading slightly as the stimulant went to work.

"From his pocket." I nodded at the dealer. "Just had to rinse the heroin out and sterilise the needle."

"So that stuff will make him tell the truth?"

"Not really, the brain just doesn't work that way. Best I can do is make him talkative and reduce his inhibitions. He'll basically say the first thing that comes to mind." Holding the syringe up to the light to make sure the chemicals weren't separating, I shrugged. "Though as a side effect, it'll probably mess with his short-term memory."

Finding a vein on the dealer's neck, I injected the cocktail and stepped back. Grue passed me his empty mug with a nod of thanks and pulled on his mask.

Lisa put her own cup down and smiled. "So he won't remember this? That's useful. Will it take long to wake him up?"

"No, some adrenaline or a shock to the system will be—" Before I could finish, Grue stepped forward and punched the dealer in the face so hard that his chair almost tipped over.

The dealer gasped, reeling from the impact and the after-effects of the sedative.

"Motherfucker!" the dealer groaned, shaking his head. Blinking in the lights, he stared up at Grue, who loomed over him in his dark bike leathers, wisps of black smoke leaking from his body.

"Oh fuck me, don't you capes have anything better to do?!"

Grue raised a fist, but Tattletale got there first.

"Yes, thank you Grue. He doesn't need a concussion. Go wait with Asclepia." She gave Grue a shove in my direction, but instead, he chose to simply stand to one side. Lisa gave me a look that spoke volumes about his behaviour but kept her mouth shut.

Instead, she smiled at the dealer.

"About a month ago you made a drop off at one of your regulars. She's dead from an overdose and we want to know why."

He stared up at her, his face twisted into a scowl. "How the fuck would _I _know. Fucking druggies OD all the time. It's got nothing to do with me!"

"The sad thing is, you actually believe that… okay, here, this is who we're talking about." She held out a photo Grue had given her of his mother; his and Aisha's faces had been covered up.

The dealer turned his head, staring fixedly at the far wall. "Fuck you, I don't—"

Grue stepped around Tattletale and grabbed the dealer's head. With a grunt, he forced the man to face the photo. Somehow, Tattletale managed to keep her expression calm, while I was just glad my mask hid my face.

"Alright, alright!" the dealer finally grunted, "I know who she is! Jesus Christ!"

He stretched his jaw as Grue moved back. "But I don't know why _you_ care about some strung out bitch."

"We care, because she was connected to some very powerful people and they want answers."

"Fuck… fine. Look, I had nothing to do with it, okay? I only ever saw her once a week. Every Thursday at the same time. She insisted. She was fine the last time I saw her. Then, a week later, the police were outside, so I turned around and left. I figured she'd been raided and I'd wait for her call."

"You weren't her only dealer?"

"Of course not."

"What did you know about the other dealers?"

He shrugged, or at least tried to. "Not much. I think one of them was a Merchant, but I'm not gonna swear to it."

"Where was she getting the money?" Grue was trembling, his fists clenched tightly.

"It doesn't matter," Tattletale snapped, shooting me and worried glance. She tapped her forearm — a signal to be ready to sedate Grue if needed — and I shook my head. I couldn't; the stimulant I'd given him would neutralise it. She grimaced, her power filling in the details.

"When you last saw Mrs Laborn, was there a young girl with her?"

The dealer blinked. His pupils were dilating, his skin glistening with sweat as he broke into a wide smile. My insides twisted at the sight, and I really hoped he wasn't reacting to the mixture I'd given him.

"You mean the hottie? Yeah, I saw her all the time. Her mom offered to let me take a ride once, but I'm not a pedo. Course, that was before she got tits. Maybe in a year or two I'll—"

Brian dove forward, driving his fist into the dealer's face with a meaty thwack. Lisa shouted something, pulling at the back of his jacket, but I couldn't hear anything over the pounding in my ears as Brian punched him again and again.

Running forward, I tackled Brian, knocking all three of us to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Brian rolled under me, trying to get back onto his feet, but I was just as tall as him, and thanks to our enhancements, Lisa and I were able to hold him down long enough that I could get my forearm under his helmet and against his throat.

Brian froze, then, after what felt like an age, he very carefully raised his arms above his head.

Slowly, _carefully_, Tattletale and I let Grue go and climbed to our feet.

Looking over at the dealer, I felt my heart stop. He was on his side, still tied to the chair in a puddle of blood and vomit. Rushing forward, I pulled my glove off and started feeling around his neck. Thankfully, his pulse was strong, but the amount of blood was worrying.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Tattletale wiped at her bloody lip. "Is he okay?"

"I… I'm not sure…" Carefully, I opened the dealer's mouth so I could check his airways. From the feel of it, his jaw was broken, and I could see the bloody gaps where Grue had knocked teeth out.

Reaching into one of the pouches on my armour, I pulled out a small glass vial and one of my only good syringes. Ripping the packaging off the syringe, I filled it with liquid from the vial. There wasn't enough left in it, but even half a dose would help.

"You made more?" Lisa knelt by me, watching as I injected it into the dealer.

The mixture didn't have a name. I'd created it when Lisa had picked up an infection while we were on the run, and it had taken most of our money to make.

"_No,_" I ground out. "That was all I had left, and it's not going to be enough. It looks like he took a bite outta his tongue, but as long as he doesn't choke on his own blood, it'll heal."

Standing up, I could feel the mounting pressure of a stress headache behind my eyes. Spinning on my heel, I pointed an angry finger at Grue.

"Not that it matters! We'll be lucky if he's not a vegetable!"

Brian turned his head away from me and crossed his arms. "Can't you—"

"No, I can't 'fix' this." I took a shaky breath. "I'm not Panacea, I'm _not_ a healer. The stuff I injected him with will help him heal faster, but it can't do anything about brain damage! This guy needs to get to a hospital and fast!"

"Tch, fine. One of you get the van, I'll—"

"Do nothing," Tattletale snapped. "We'll clean this up. You go home, get some sleep and sort your head out. This was fucked up and you know it!"

"You expect me to just 'go home and _sleep'?!"_

"Yes. Taylor can make something to help if you need it. We need you thinking straight. Now, just go."

Grue looked between us, then turned with a growl. He was halfway to the door before Tattletale swore and shouted at him.

"Don't even think about running off on your own! You've got less than an hour before Taylor's stimulant wears off and you pass out."

Grue looked over his shoulder at us, and I could feel him glaring at me as I busied myself checking on the dealer. The bleeding seemed to be slowing down as the mixture accelerated the clotting.

When I glanced up again, Grue was gone.

"If we don't find Aisha soon… he's going to get us all killed," Tattletale muttered. "Come on, let's get to a hospital."

Between the two of us, it was easy enough to cut the dealer free and lift him off the ground.

We put him in the back of the van with as much care as we could. Just to be safe, I climbed in with him to keep him from moving around too much.

Tattletale jumped into the front seat, the engine sputtering into life, and the van lurched as we pulled away. We raced through the streets, careful to stay under the speed limit. I wasn't sure if she was trying to avoid suspicion, or just didn't want to jostle the dealer.

The blood looked like it was stopping, but he was still unresponsive, which was never a good sign.

"We can't stop," Lisa said as the hospital came into view. "I'll slow down as much as I can and you throw him out?"

"We should have let Grue deal with this," I muttered, putting one hand on the door.

"You're kidding, right? He'd have thrown the guy into the bay. Now!"

The van slowed, and I pulled the door open. Grabbing the dealer, I heaved, throwing him out the van feet first. Thankfully Tattletale had brought us to a near stop in the ambulance loading bay. People were already rushing forward as the dealer hit the floor.

Putting her foot down, she gunned the engine and we roared away with a squeal of tyres and I slammed the door closed. With any luck, no one got a clear look at me.

Sitting back, I looked up to the roof and sighed. This wasn't the first time we'd dumped someone at a hospital, but it never felt right. At least this time it wasn't a teammate.

"I don't think Grue likes me very much." I sighed as we drove away.

"It's not your fault. I think Coil warned him to keep an eye on you."

"… Just whose idea was it to recruit me?" We'd never really talked about this before. When I'd first joined the Undersiders, I'd been too busy tinkering to really ask about it, and afterwards… well, there had been more important things to focus on.

Lisa smiled in the rearview mirror. "Mine, of course. Grue isn't stupid; he knew we needed more members, and tinkers are always useful."

"He wanted lasers and power armour?" All tinkers had specialisations, areas that they focused and excelled with. Mine was chemicals, drugs mostly. I'm not going to lie — it had hurt when I realised mine wasn't as immediately useful, but I'd adapted.

"Yeah, something like that." Lisa laughed as we pulled into an empty lot. The sound of sirens was growing in the distance.

"Don't take it too personally. Grue has always had a bit of a problem where drugs are concerned, and with the boss putting him on guard… well, you never really had much chance."

Sighing, I climbed out of the van and pulled a pair of small metal tubes from my pocket. Popping the lids, I mixed the two together and dropped them onto the van floor. Almost immediately, they started to smoke.

By the time Tattletale and I had left the lot, the van was ablaze.

What a way to spend the night.

##

Covering my mouth with my hand, I tried to hide the yawn as I collected my tea from the cashier.

It had been past midnight by the time Lisa and I had gotten back to our motel, and while we'd both chosen to sleep in, I still felt drained as I walked through the streets.

It was nearly ten in the morning, and Lisa had gone to find Brian. He was probably still out cold — the aftereffect of that stimulant was brutal, after all, especially when combined with his already exhausted state.

Lisa knew that, but she wanted to be there when he woke up. She'd also insisted that I _not_ be.

I couldn't really argue. I could have warned Brian about the effects _before_ he drank it, but Lisa had thought it was better that I didn't.

Still, that did leave me at a bit of a loose end.

Not sure what else to do, I'd taken one of the pictures of Aisha Brian had left us and my pepper spray and set out into the city.

Up ahead, I could see one of the city's homeless shelters. Brian said he'd checked them already, but I suspected I'd have more luck.

Brian was tall and muscular. Even when he was clean-shaven and well-dressed, he didn't look like someone you'd want to mess with.

Chances are, if he walked into a shelter, most would be too scared to talk to him. On the other hand, while I was tall for a woman, I had glasses on, and my baggy and worn clothes hid any definition I had. Very few people were intimidated by a teenage girl.

The largest shelter in the city was also inside Empire territory, and while they mostly left it and the people inside alone, Brian showing up here would have been noticed.

Or it had been. As I approached the door, I could see that unfamiliar gang tag on the frame. In the daylight, it was easier to recognise it as a yellow jewel.

I would have to ask Lisa about it later. If a new gang had moved into the city, we needed to be careful. Especially if they had managed to take territory from the Empire.

Inside, the shelter was no different to any of the ones Lisa and I had stayed at. It was a large open hall with tables taking up the majority of the space. Side doors led into bathrooms, or back offices, with staff coming in and out in a constant rush.

At one end of the hall there was a counter where staff were handing out meals. The line stretched most of the way around the hall. There wouldn't be enough food. There never was.

I could feel people watching me as I moved through the halls and tried not to shiver. Shelters were _safer_ than sleeping on the streets, but that did not make them _safe_. It didn't help that the majority of people you saw in shelters were men.

The worst I'd ever experienced was a guy trying to grab my ass. But you heard rumours of worse all the time.

Ignoring the looks, I approached an elderly woman near the back of the hall who was wearing a lanyard and reading something on a clipboard.

Noticing my approach, she gave me a kind smile. "Oh, hello dear, if you're looking for something to eat, you'll need to join the line, but we still have plenty left."

"Oh, no I'm okay, thanks. Actually, I'm just looking for someone." Fishing the picture out of my pocket, I held it out for her to inspect. "Have you seen this girl? Her name is Aisha, her brother's worried sick."

"I, hmm. I'm sorry dear. She looks familiar, but it's so hard to keep track." As she turned her head in thought, movement drew my attention, and I saw a man in a well-tailored suit talking to a couple of men at one of the tables. The light was glinting off a small gold brooch on his jacket. It was a yellow jewel on a gold background and looked almost identical to the gang tag outside.

"Is something wrong?" the woman said, realising I wasn't paying attention. "Oh, them! Don't mind them, they work for a recruitment company that started donating to the shelter a few months ago. They send people by every now and then, offering jobs to anyone who wants one. Honestly, they have been a godsend, especially with the mayor cutting our funding again."

Shaking her head, she pulled a pencil from her pocket. "You said the girl's name was Aisha? I'll make a note for the others, and if you leave me your cell phone number, I'll call you if she turns up."

Trying not to sigh, I gave her the number of my burner phone. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do.

"I'm sorry I can't do more. Have you spoken to the police? They could contact the women's shelter for you."

"That's my next stop." It wasn't, of course. I wasn't planning to go near the police. A haircut and some dye might work on the average person, but walking straight into a police station was tantamount to suicide.

On my way out, I looked around, seeing more than a few people wearing the same gold and yellow brooch.

Outside, I crossed the road and leaned up against the wall of a building while I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialled Lisa's number.

"Hey, sweety! Where are you, I missed you!" Lisa's voice went from chirpy to sultry purr in a heartbeat, and I felt my face grow hot.

"l—Lisa, what the hell?!" I managed to splutter as she broke down giggling.

"Sorry, I'm with Brian and couldn't resist. You should have seen his face! So, what's up?"

"I was just at the shelter uptown—" Putting my embarrassment aside, I told her everything I'd seen at the shelter.

"That's… okay… You need to be careful. It might be best if you just came here. I'll text you Brian's address."

Brian said something in the background, but I couldn't make out what, and Lisa must have covered the phone with her hand when she shouted back at him.

"Lisa, what's going on? Do you know who these people were?"

"I'm not sure, but my power says they work for Accord."

Frowning, I looked back at the shelter. "Isn't he in Boston?"

"Yeah, looks like he's expanding to Brockton. I doubt he's here in person. More likely one of his men is in charge—"

Two of the people in suits left the shelter and started walking down the road. As I watched them go, an idea came to mind.

"...Taylor? Taylor, whatever you're planning, don't!"

"You said you need more information."

"Yes, but not like this! These aren't some random bangers, Accord's men are _trained_. We don't want to pick a fight with them!"

The two men turned a corner and went out of sight. If I didn't move now, I'd lose them completely.

"I'll speak to you later!" Hanging up, I crossed the road and followed them.

Lisa was going to give me hell for this, but we couldn't keep stumbling around in the dark.

##

Following the two men turned out to be easier than I'd expected. They mostly stuck to main streets, with lots of people around, making it easy for me to blend in with the crowds. Up ahead, I could see them talk to each other, but I was too far away to hear what was being said.

In my pocket, my phone buzzed again. Lisa had messaged me three times in the last five minutes, and I was pretty sure she'd called at least twice.

I knew she was just worried about me, and was it wrong that I liked knowing she cared? But I wasn't planning on doing anything stupid.

She'd said Accord's men were trained, so I wasn't even going to try mugging them. I just wanted to see where they would lead me, for now.

So far, they had continued to skirt the border of Empire and Coil's territory. Occasionally, they would stop and point at something on one building or another, and, at least once, I saw them taking pictures.

Pausing briefly, though taking care to keep them in sight, I took a look at what had interested them so much. It turned out to be an Empire tag on the side of a building.

This was starting to feel less like a sedate walk through the city and more like a _patrol_.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I tried to discreetly grab some pictures of street signs. The camera on it wasn't great — the resolution was pretty low and it blurred easily — but it was only a burner phone at the end of the day.

A few more turns later, and I was more certain that Accord, or whoever these people were, had taken Coil's territory, as the two men walked calmly into an office building that Lisa had told me once was one of Coil's fronts.

She'd told me about a number of them and explained that if I need a place to hide, I was to ditch my costume, go inside and tell the receptionist that I had a meeting with Mr Szyslak.

Now, however, the sign out front said 'Jewel Recruitment'.

Biting my lip, I hesitated. This had to be enough, right? We knew about one of their hideouts and had a rough idea of territory. I could let Lisa know and then get back to looking for Aisha. It wasn't like Accord would care about us or what we were doing, was it?

And yet, I couldn't walk away. That burning need to know more was still there.

Getting an idea, I doubled back on myself until I found a small thrift store. Digging through the racks, I eventually found a red shirt, an old jacket and a black marker that only cost a few dollars combined.

Heading back to the recruitment office, I ducked into an alley that was a few buildings away and looked around to make sure I wasn't followed. Tearing the shirt up, I used the marker to draw the number eighty-three on one of pieces and tied it around the lower half of my face. The jacket I turned inside out so the black lining was visible and slipped it on.

Living in Brockton, you learned quickly how to look after yourself and what to watch out for. Six months on the run with Lisa had only added to that.

There were, or had been, two major gangs in the city: Empire Eighty-Eight and the Azn Bad Boyz. Coil had been considered a minor group at best, and no one took the Merchants seriously.

The Empire were Nazis, white supremacists. While everyone associated Swastikas with Nazis, only the most hardcore members would actually walk about in public with them on display.

The Empire, however, liked the number eight and and they loved codes built around it. Eight referred to the 8th letter of the alphabet, H; eighty-eight stood for H.H. or 'Heil Hitler', while eighteen pointed to Adolf Hitler in the same way.

I supposed they thought it was clever, and while it did mean you could show it in public without getting arrested, people soon learned to watch out for it, or the letter 'E' repeated three times.

With any luck, anyone looking at me would just assume I was a low-ranking member.

Finding a fire escape, I scrambled to the rooftops. Keeping low as I moved forward, I eventually ended up lying on my stomach next to an air conditioning unit. On the other side of the alley, I could see the windows at the back of the recruitment office.

Pointing my phone at the office, I started taking pictures. A few of the windows had their blinds down, but there was nothing I could do about that. The people inside looked normal enough, men and women sitting at desks in tasteful suits while they worked. I was too far away to make out details on their screens, but I suspected it would be nothing but spreadsheets and other normal things.

This whole idea was starting to look like a bust, and I was considering giving up when movement below caught my eye. A car was driving into the alley. I didn't know the make or model, but it looked expensive. The black paintwork was polished to a near-mirror shine, and its windows were tinted to hide anyone inside.

I held my breath as the car stopped and a woman in a goldenrod yellow evening gown climbed out. Her face was covered by a masquerade ball mask, the gems on it shining in the daylight.

Even as I took a picture, I cursed my luck. She had to be a cape. This was far beyond what I'd been expecting to see.

Keeping my head down, I watched her enter the office through a back door. I caught the occasional glimpse of her moving through the building and eventually entering a room on the top floor.

The blinds were drawn, but I could almost see the yellow of her costume through the thin materials and the silhouette of someone standing to greet her.

My heart was pounding in my ears. I had to get out of here. I'd seen enough and had to move before—

The blinds rose and I found myself staring at the cape, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' of surprise. For just a moment, our eyes met and I saw anger flash across her face.

Rolling sideways, I tried to duck behind the AC unit.

There was a snap-pop that was almost lost to the noise of the city, and something tore through the metal barely a foot away from my head.

_'__Oh fuck!'_

Another pop and another bullet followed, closer than the first, punching through the AC and bouncing off the roof in a spray of gravel.

_Lisa is going to _kill_me!_

Throwing myself forward, I ran. I jerked sideways, and another bullet bounced off the roof. My heart was in my mouth as I did it again and another shot missed.

_Get off the roof, get off the roof, get off the roof, get off the roof, get off the roof! _I screamed at myself as I ran, desperately hoping to reach the fire escape on the farside of the building.

Pain filled my shoulder as something hit me with a jolt and I bit back a scream. I forced myself to keep moving, but I could hear sounds up ahead. People were coming _up_ the escape.

Turning, I sprinted in a different direction. The building I was on had a flag pole planted in the ground in front of it, and I could see it in the distance.

I threw myself off the roof as another shot grazed my leg. Wrapping my good arm around the pole, I tried to slide down to safety, but the flimsy metal couldn't hold my weight. With a groan, it gave way, the thin support wires that attached it to the building snapping as it folded over.

I was too breathless to scream as the ground rushed towards me.

The pole jerked violently as a final support line held, the shock sending waves of pain through my shoulder and knocking me loose. The drop wasn't far, maybe twice my height, and I managed to land on my feet, but the impact sent another wave of pain through me.

I was on the streets now, and people were stopping to stare, but I was fairly confident the people I could hear shouting in the distance wouldn't shoot at me now.

Gritting my teeth, I ran forwards, crossing the street blindly and running deeper into Empire territory. The voices behind me were fading quickly, but I refused to slow down.

Ducking from one back alley to another, I scrambled up and over a wooden fence and nearly landed on my face on the other side. I could barely see through the tears in my eyes and my shoulder was a flaming ball of agony, but I forced my arm to move as I pulled the jacket off and threw it aside.

Pulling the mask off, I stumbled in the other direction.

Finally, when the pain and dizziness was too much to bear, I stopped and looked around.

I was surrounded by warehouses, and the tang of salt in the air was stronger than ever. Without even meaning to, I'd gone most of the way towards the docks.

Cursing myself, I put the mask against my shoulder and leaned against the wall to hold it in place while my good hand fumbled with my phone. It was slick with blood, but I managed to dial out.

"Hey sweety!" I wasn't sure why I found it so funny to copy Lisa, but I couldn't stop myself from giggling as she answered the phone. "I… might have fucked up…"

Lisa was deathly silent. She was _so_ going to kill me for this.

##  
AN: Chapter commissioned by Laioken

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	3. Chapter 3

Taylor was almost boneless as Lisa and Brian carried her through the door. She was barely awake at this point, just mumbling and hissing every time they jolted her.

"Put her on the couch," Lisa snapped, her stomach in her mouth. "Then you need to get your first aid kit!"

"Don't you two have some sorta healing ability?" Brian grunted, moving Taylor around so they could lower her gently, face down on the grey white material of the couch.

"No, permanent changes are too risky, everything Taylor does wears off." Ignoring his scoff, she tapped Taylor's face. "Come on Taylor, stay awake, you can't sleep yet!"

"M'awake," she mumbled. "Whad'ya want?"

"That healing stuff you made, what do you need for it?" As she spoke, Lisa waved a hand at Brian, pointing at a small note pad that was nearby. She all but snatched it off him as he passed it back and Taylor started listing off ingredients.

"S'expencive …" she muttered as she finished, but Lisa ignored her.

"It's alright, Brian's paying."

"I'm what?" Brian hissed, having just walked into the room.

"You're paying." Getting up, Lisa snatched the towels and first aid kit off him, then shoved the notepad into his hands.

"Go to the chemist on 9th, there's also a shop over on 43rd that supplies chemicals. Tell them you're shopping for mister _G. newell_. It's one of Leet's aliases." Her tone went cold. "And when you get back, you're telling me how you're able to afford this place when we all fled with _nothing_.

"Now, out!" Giving him a shove, she turned back to Taylor. "Unless you want to watch me undress her?"

"Wha? No, no he can't!" Taylor jerked on the couch, trying to get her arms under herself and Lisa rushed forward, cursing herself as she went.

Brian muttered something as she tried to calm Taylor down and she heard the door slam. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. She knew she was being a bitch, but this whole mess was his fault.

"Sorry, Taylor, this is going to hurt," she muttered. The couch wasn't big enough for both of them, so Lisa ended up straddling Taylor's thighs as she worked.

Opening the kit, Lisa was about ready to forgive Brian for everything. He hadn't just brought a kit, but _the_ kit. The one Taylor had personally put together before everything had gone to hell. The same kit that should have still been in their old base.

Putting the kit on the floor where Taylor could see it, Lisa pulled out a pair of scissors and sliced the back of Taylor's shirt open, then the sleeve. The shirt was already beyond saving anyway.

"Is there anything in there that can help?"

"Blue p'n" Taylor slurred, "n'r wond... th'n yellow… "

Taylor moaned as Lisa peeled away the shirt, the cloth sticky with blood. _Bullet wound, small caliber, bullet still in the wound. No major arteries but need to stop the bleeding._

Grabbing a penlight from the kit, Lisa held it in her mouth so she had both hands free. There was also a set of epipens, each one with a different coloured label. Pulling the lid off the blue one, she pressed it against Taylor's shoulder, just below the wound and hit the button. Taylor flinched as it injected her, but otherwise stayed quiet.

_Blue is painkiller, won't work quickly enough but better than nothing. Yellow is a stimulant._ Ignoring what her power was telling her, Lisa injected the pens into Taylor's other shoulder, then grabbed some tweezers.

Putting a hand on Taylor's back she reached forward.

"'eat firss," Taylor mumbled. She had turned her head and was now watching over her shoulder, her eyes already looking more focused as the stimulant went to work.

"Do we really have time for this?"

"R'duce the inflection risk. Then, white pod with red powder. P'ck wound, clotting agent."

Shaking her head, Lisa used a lighter to heat the tweezers for a minute then carefully reached into the wound. It wouldn't cauterise the wound, the little flame wasn't hot enough for that, but it would at least sterilize the tweezers somewhat.

Taylor let out a strangled scream as the metal poked at the open wound, her body tensing, making Lisa pause.

"Dnt stop!"

Cursing, her heart in her mouth, Lisa dug around inside the wound until she felt something. Grabbing it with the tweezers, she pulled the bullet free.

Letting it fall to the floor, she grabbed the white _pot_ from the kit, popping the lid free with her thumb. Inside was a fine red powder that she poured liberally over Taylor's back, using her free hand to pack as much as she could into the bullet hole.

"Is that it? Do we need to do anything else?" she asked, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Stitch, then cover it all up… should be f'ne." Taylor's breathing was heavy, the skin of her sweat soaked back pale and clammy.

_Exhausted. Stimulant wasn't enough. Needs to sleep._

Sighing, Lisa wiped her forehead, only to realise that she still had powder on her hands.

Actually, now that she had a moment to breath, she realised it was everywhere. It was on her hands, Taylors' back, even the couch cushions beneath them, staining everything with a coppery-red colour, but Lisa couldn't bring herself to care.

Grabbing a sealed pack of needles and a roll of thread, Lisa did her best to stitch the wound closed with trembling fingers. She tried to keep the stitches as fine and as neat as she could in an effort to reduce the scarring, but she knew it was a waste of time.

Just one more scar on Taylor's body.

Ignoring the sweat and grime, she placed a hand in Taylor's back, feeling how the muscles under her skin twitched as Lisa traced along their edges until she found the other scar.

It was three inches long, just below Taylor's ribs on the left side of her body. It had faded some, Taylor having done something to make it heal faster than usual, making it look older, but it was still visible.

"You need to stop." It was barely more than a whisper, but Taylor still heard her anyway, her head lifting slightly as she tried to look at Lisa.

"Wha?"

"I said, you can't keep doing this!" Lisa snapped. "What were you thinking following them like that? It's obvious they had nothing to do with Aisha, all you did was let everyone know we're in the city!"

"I w're a disguise!"

_She was dressed like a nazi. _Lisa very carefully didn't scream in frustration.

"That doesn't make things better! You need to stop and _think!_ What if they had caught you or _this" - _she poked Taylor's shoulder, taking care not to touch the actual wound - "had hit your head? What if we hadn't got to you in time?! You have got to stop throwing yourself into danger like this!"

"Bu-"

"No, don't 'but Lisa' me. If you want to take risks, get a fucking _hobby_. If you wanna kill you-" Biting her lip, Lisa went quiet, while under her, Taylor froze.

"Fuck, just… fuck." Lisa groaned, wiping her eyes. She hated how her voice trembled. "I don't want to lose anyone else. So please, for my sake, try to think a little more..."

Climbing off Taylor, she started gathering up the supplies that had gotten scattered and putting them away. Taylor watched her silently, but Lisa ignored her, eventually walking out of the room so she could be quietly sick without Taylor knowing.

This whole situation was a mess and as much as she wanted to blame Brian, she knew it was just as much her fault. _She _had recruited Taylor, _she _had convinced Taylor to run when Coil's pet monster had got loose and _she_ was the one who insisted they stayed together.

She could dress it up however she wanted, make all the excuses and explanations she could think of. But at the end of the day, she was the reason Taylor was laying on the couch with a new scar on her shoulder.

Huffing to herself, she heard Brian returning home. Remembering that Taylor was currently topless, she fixed a smile on her face and hurried down stairs before he could walk in on her.

No rest for the wicked and all that.

##

_'__Two parts this, mixed with three parts of that and simmer'_ Listening to the instructions in my head, I very carefully mixed together the various chemicals Brian had bought me. I felt bad that he'd spent so much money, but at least I could make sure we'd have health boosters when we needed them.

Brian's kitchen wasn't exactly a laboratory, but it was clean and functional, making this easier than the last time. Working one handed was tricky, but just trying to lift anything heavier than a kettle made my shoulder throb so I'd have to make do.

It had only been two days since I'd been shot. I'd spent most of yesterday asleep in Brian's spare bedroom while him and Lisa continued to search for Aisha. So far, nothing had come up.

Putting the latest mixture off to one side to cool, I picked up a couple of coffee cups and went into the living room.

Lisa was still messing with her laptop. Brian was sitting nearby going through a stack of papers. Both were very pointedly ignoring each other, and me. The tension between all of us was palpable and stifling.

I wasn't certain, but I was fairly sure they had been arguing while I was asleep.

"I… should be done in the kitchen soon…" My eyes flicked to the blood stains on the couch and I wet my lips nervously. "Also, I think I can create something that will remove the blood."

"… thanks…" Brian grunted, eyeing the coffee I placed nearby.

With a sigh, Lisa put her laptop to one side. "Okay, look, let's just get on with this. The sooner we find Aisha, the sooner we can all go our separate ways."

The way she said it made my stomach twist. I guess Lisa had to get tired of me eventually. I was fairly confident I could survive on my own, maybe even go visit dad.

Glancing at me, Lisa pinched the bridge of her nose. "Right, as near as I can tell, Aisha's disappearance had nothing to do with Coil, his death or our names going public. Your mom's death… well, it _looks _like an accident. I've seen the autopsy results; there were no signs of a struggle and no bruising. So, whatever she took, my power says she took it willingly."

"And what did she take?" Brian's voice was hollow, his eyes fixed on the far wall.

"I… don't know…" Snatching up her laptop, Lisa turned the screen to me and pointed at a chemical breakdown of what I assumed was Mrs Laborn's blood. "Taylor, does this mean anything to you?"

"Floor cleaner," I said simply, but as I read down the list, I started to notice other stuff.

"... okay, not just that… meth, traces of cannabis and… okay, this one I don't know..." It was a mix of different chemicals that I didn't recognise.

Taking a notepad and pen, I wrote them out, then, with a questioning look at Lisa, I took the laptop and started looking them up. As I skimmed through the webpages, I compiled a list of effects they would have on a human body. In my mind's eye, I could almost see how they would combine into a complex string of molecules all lined up neatly.

"It would need to be heated," I muttered. "This chemical can only be synthesized by compressing the mixture while hot... and… no… It almost looks like cocaine, but...synthetic, and it'd cause euphoria, really long-lasting," I said, glancing up at Lisa.

Looking back at the chemical formula I'd scribbled, I highlighted a section of it. "This would likely cause a reduction in pain while heightening the senses."

I underlined another section. "_That's_ engine grease_. _I'm guessing cross-contamination, likely a result of wherever it was made…"

"No," Lisa said suddenly, "it's not contamination. It was _made_ in an engine. It's a byproduct of something else. She was given a free sample of it, but the dealer didn't know the correct dose, so they guessed."

_'__Made in an engine…' _Looking at the chemical formula again, I saw what she meant. Reduced to a powder, the compound would make a passible dry rocket fuel. It was outside my specialisation, but I suspected that it wouldn't work well inside a standard engine. It probably gunked everything up and ruined the engine.

"... So how did they end up realising it was a drug?"

Picking up her laptop, Lisa started flicking through it. "You'd be surprised what a desperate druggy will do for a high. Anyway, the police have identified three more people who have died from it this month."

"That's a pretty small number. If they had a new drug, wouldn't they try to get it out as quickly as possible?"

"They don't have much… probably takes a long time to make or something. No, they made it by accident, it was made by a tinker, but they weren't making drugs. I think it was supposed to be fuel, maybe.

I nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. Squealer?"

"Squealer." Lisa agreed with a nod. Squealer was a car tinker, that is, she specialised in cars and trucks. More importantly, she was a member of the Merchants - a loose connection of drug dealers and users. They were seen as barely above trash by the other gangs.

"Does any of this matter?" Brian snapped, glaring at us both. "How does this help me find Aisha?"

I flinched back and Lisa sighed. "You're right, sorry. Near as I can tell, whoever sold this to your mom probably doesn't have anything to do with Aisha."

"So it's another dead end. What about the people who shot Taylor?"

"Citrine, she works for Accord. He and Coil were friends, of sorts. Now that Coil's dead, he's sent her down to take over the city. If they had Aisha, Accord would likely have already contacted us, but I doubt they care enough about us to even know she existed."

Lisa winced at her use of past-tense, but Brian either didn't notice, or didn't care. We had both avoided saying it around Brian, but neither of us actually expected to find Aisha alive at this point.

I knew Lisa was already quietly checking the morgues.

"What if we found Bitch?" I said as the idea popped into my mind. "Her dogs-"

"It's been too long. Even if we could find Bitch, Aisha's trail has long gone cold… but checking her home isn't a bad idea. Maybe Aisha left something in her room my power can use? Can you get us in?"

Brian shook his head. "No. The landlord has the keys and the last time I spoke to him, he tried to call the cops on me."

"You probably shouldn't have threatened him," Lisa muttered. "Doesn't matter, not like we _need_ his permission. Taylor, how quickly will that stuff of yours work?"

"I should be okay by tomorrow evening? I was thinking about making something to reduce the scarring, but I can wait a day or two for that."

"Alright, you go finish up. Brian, I've got a list of shelters for you to ring. Tell them your name is detective-"

As Lisa walked Brian through scamming hospitals and shelters to find any unknown girls matching Aisha's description, I walked back to the kitchen.

I needed to clean up and get my shoulder fixed as quickly as possible.

##

Next evening, I carefully stretched my arm, feeling how the muscles in my shoulder flexed. It was still a little stiff, but it wasn't going to cause me problems and would likely fade with time.

Dressed in normal clothes, we climbed into the little van Lisa had rented and sat quietly while she drove. I'd wanted to come in costume, but Lisa had insisted that three teens breaking into a locked building was a lot less likely to draw attention than three capes.

I couldn't say she was wrong, I just felt uncomfortable doing this with my face exposed.

Mrs Laborn lived in a small, single story house in a bad part of town. Technically, this was ABB territory, but I didn't see many obvious tags or signs as we got close. I supposed the area was too poor to bother with? Nearly every house we passed was clearly uncared for, with overgrown lawns, cracked and faded paint and boarded up windows.

It was sickening to think that people lived like this, while only a few blocks away were the lavish apartments and well tended buildings of the city's wealthier citizens.

"You should wait out here," Lisa said gently as we came to a stop, distracting me from my thoughts.

Brian shook his head. "No, I need to do this."

"… alright, just… don't force yourself." She gave me a look. Brian had been sullen all morning and it worried us both.

Most of the windows of the houses around us were dark, making it easier to move across the lawn without being seen. Pulling a small lockpick from her pocket, Lisa went to work on the lock.

Brian or I could have probably kicked the door in without much effort, but that felt disrespectful. Though from the state of the door and the beaten wooden frame, it looked like someone already had. Multiple times.

Inside, the house was a mess. Clothes had been thrown around, lying haphazardly on every available surface. Empty bottles and old food containers littered the kitchen, and everything was covered in a thin layer of dust.

Every step we made, every creak of the floor, even the sound of our breathing echoed throughout the house. It was like walking through a tomb.

Brian moved slowly, seeming unperturbed by the mess, which led me to think it always looked this way.

"Can you cover the windows? I asked as we walked into the living room, my words swallowed by the silence.

With a wave of his hand, Brian sent clouds of darkness across the room and pressed them up against walls and windows so no one could see us. Shooting Lisa a look, I walked up behind Brian and wrapped my arms around his chest.

"I know what its like to lose family. People look at you and say 'they're sorry', that 'things get better', but it's all bullshit. It's like a hole in your chest and it never goes away, it never stops hurting. Sometimes, you can forget for a bit, then you'll see or hear something and it hits you in all over again."

"And the way people look at you. Like you're bringing them down, that you should just '_hurry up_' and get over it," Lisa muttered, her eyes shut.

"She was a druggy," Brian grunted, not pulling away. "She spent more time high than-"

"She was still your mom!" I snapped, my voice wavering. "And you're allowed to grieve. Just… let me and Lisa handle this. Please?"

"I… okay." Finally pulling away from me, Brian dropped heavily on the couch, his breath shaky. As Lisa and I left, darkness filled the room.

In the hallway, Lisa gave my hand a squeeze, her eyes a little watery. "You okay?"

"Yeah, you?"

"I'm good." Shaking herself, Lisa tried to smile. "C'mon, let's get this over with and get out of here. When we get back to hotel, I'm buying as much chocolate as I can."

"Only if you share," I muttered, trying to collect myself and following her down the hall.

Aisha's room was obvious, simply because of the posters covering the walls. When we first opened the door, I'd almost feared that the room had been ransacked, but Lisa was quick to guess that the room always looked like that.

It felt wrong to dig through her belongings. I knew how I would feel if it was my room and strangers were looking through everything, and it made my stomach twist painfully. I knew, of course, that the police had likely done just that after I'd run away, but I pushed the thought aside.

Spotting a beat up old rucksack on the floor, I put it on the bed and gathered up some of the clothes, stuffing them into the bag. "Look for anything of value," I muttered. The landlord was likely going to clear this place out at some point. Anything we didn't take would either be dumped, or sold off.

There wasn't much, just a few small bits of jewellery and some photos hidden in a box under the bed, along with a small switchblade.

Leaving Lisa alone, I pulled the police tape off the door to Mrs Laborn's room and walked inside.

The bed was unmade, with the blankets pushed off to one side. Likely by the police. _God, I hope Aisha wasn't the one who found her._

Moving as quickly and as quietly as I could, I dug through the drawers, wardrobe and even under the bed. I found nothing more than some photos and a small jewelry box. It was empty, but the box itself looked old and it played a quiet little tune when opened.

Closing the lid, I placed it into the bag and left.

I found Brian standing in the hallway, looking small and lost. I forced myself not to react to his red eyes, or the lines on his face.

"Here," I said, handing over the bag. "Some of Aisha's things and your mom's. We probably won't be able to come back…"

I trailed off, unsure what to say.

"Thank you… I'm… gonna get some air."

Nodding, I watched him leave through the front door.

"I think we're done here," Lisa said as I walked back into Aisha's room. "There's nothing here I can use. I think we may be at a dead end. How's Brian doing?"

"Not great. I think bringing him here was a mistake."

"I know, but-"

"Hey!" The shout came from outfront, followed moments later by the roar of an engine and the screech of tires. Lisa and I sprinted for the front door, dread settling low in my gut.

Outside, a man was standing by the curb as the van as it shot away.

"What happened?" Lisa snapped at the man as he turned to us.

"You with Brian?"

"Yes, what happened?!"

"Shit, I don't know! I just warned him about some bangers a couple of blocks over. Told him that if he was planning on moving back here, he needed to watch out for them. They showed up about a month back, not long after Mrs L died. Bunch a' skin heads, started demanding protection money. Said if we didn't pay they would fuck us up like they did the 'little bitch'."

My heart was in my mouth as Lisa sucked in a hiss.

"Did they say anything about the girl?"

"Not much, just that she had short hair and a big mouth."

Lisa stepped forward and the man stepped back at her glare. "Did you tell Brian where they were?"

"Sure." He pointed up the road. "Two blocks that way, they took over the old used car lot. You can't miss it, got tags all over the walls."

"We gotta go, c'mon!" Not waiting for me, Lisa took off, sprinting up the road, and I had to push myself hard to catch up. Even as she ran, Lisa had a phone to her ear.

We were probably attracting attention, two young women sprinting through the area like this, but it didn't matter. Right now, Brian was a ball of rage and grief and that idiot had given him a target.

I just hoped we got there before he did anything he'd regret.


	4. Chapter 4

One of the first things I'd created after getting my powers was a medication that boosted muscle growth and regeneration. It wasn't perfect, it still required me to exercise and using too much was dangerous, but even the short course Lisa and I had gone through had been more than worth it.

The pavement was nearly a blur as we ran through the nearly deserted streets. It wasn't quite 'professional athlete' speeds, but it was certainly faster than anything we would have managed before, and increased stamina keeping us going long beyond normal for a pair of slim teenage girls.

Not that any of it mattered if we didn't reach Brian before he did something stupid. Well, more stupid than running off like this. Neither of us spoke as we ran through the streets and Lisa had already given up trying to call Brian, choosing instead to focus on running.

This wasn't a nice part of town, the cracked and broken pavement slowing us down as we ran. In the distance, I could hear the sound of gunfire. Part of me hoped I was wrong, that it was just a car backfiring. I knew it wasn't. I'd been shot at enough times to know that sound.

I wasn't sure what we were going to do when we found Brian. I doubted he would be in any mood to talk, assuming he hadn't been shot by the time we got there.

We'd covered two blocks by now, the distant sound of gunfire was only growing louder and the number of people we were passing had dropped to nothing. Only cops and idiots ran towards gunfire.

Reaching the end of the block, we rounded the corner at a wide intersection. Across the street was an old dealership. The asphalt forecourt was cracking, weeds sprouting up through the gaps. A few cars were scattered here and there, most were beaten up and rusty, but with new tyres.

They probably belonged to whichever gang had taken over the building.

Brian's rented van was also there. He'd driven it straight across the forecourt and into the boarded-up windows of the main building, leaving a trail of skidmarks in his wake.

Faint wisps of his darkness were drifting out of the hole and dissipating in the fading daylight.

Sharing a look, Lisa and I went for the van. She pulled the backdoor open and reached inside for a duffle bag. Inside was a couple of ski masks, some thin gloves, a taser and a small crossbow with some arrows.

It wasn't much, but we hadn't been expecting to get into a fight and carrying our complete costumes around with us was just asking for trouble.  
"Do you think you can take Grue?" Lisa, no Tattletale asked as she pulled on a mask.

"Not a chance!" I hissed, grabbing a mask.

Sure, I was strong and tall, but Brian was still taller, with a huge mass advantage. Not to mention he'd actually been trained to fight. If it came down to a serious contest between us, I didn't rate my chances. Especially as he could use his power, while I had nothing on me but some crossbow bolts.

Pulling the mask on, I tried to ignore the faint smell of diesel coming from the van. I really hoped Grue's stunt hadn't ruptured the vans fuel tank. The last thing we needed was this place going in flames while we were inside.

The office itself wasn't very impressive, just a large rectangular box with one side being made entirely of glass that was now shattered thanks to Grue's entrance. The old and faded carpet still showed the marks where desks had once stood and the smell of mold, blood and gunpowder filled the air.

At one side of the office was a small back room that had probably once been storage, while a large, dark, hole sat in the middle of the wall opposite us.

On the ground laid half a dozen men. Most of them were groaning, clutching at broken limbs or weakly trying to crawl towards the exit, only to freeze when they saw us enter.

They were all so young. It was the first thing I noticed when I entered the building. None of them looked older than twenty and a couple even looked younger than me.

One of them, however, was slumped to the ground dead. Most of his face was missing and what remained was a mess of bloody red chunks and exposed bone. My stomach rolled at the sight, forcing me to look away or risk being sick while Lisa actually took a step closer.

Breathing in through my mouth in an effort to calm my stomach, I noticed a shotgun on the floor nearby. A man was laying next to it sobbing, one of his legs looking like meat jello.

Carefully, Lisa picked up the shotgun and unloaded it.

"Friendly fire," she said quietly, "Grue flooded the room with darkness and they started firing blindly."

Grue had used his power on me once to show me what it was like. His darkness looked and moved like smoke but it blocked all light and sound. It left you blind and deaf to the world and trying to move through it was almost like moving through water.

Picturing what it was like for these guys to suddenly find themselves thrown into that, it was easy to imagine them panicking.

Glancing again at the ruined corpse, I had to wonder, did Grue even care about the boy's death?

There was a meaty thud from the building next door, pulling me from my thoughts. Something heavy hit the floor. Sharing a look with Tattletale, I moved towards the hole, crossbow at the ready as I stepped through.

Like with the dealership, all the windows were boarded up, but this had been done on the inside. The construction was clearly hurried, with little more than some roughly cut bits of wood covering the windows, exposed nails jutting from the wood.

"They were trying to fortify the place," Tattletale muttered, giving one of the boards an experimental tug. "They probably wanted to turn the building into a permanent hideout."

The only light came from bulbs that had been strung up along the ceiling with nails and cable ties. Whoever set them up must have tapped into the nearby buildings for power, there was no way these kids were actually paying for electricity.

Moving down a hallway and up a flight of stairs, we were forced to move slowly in case of stragglers lying in wait for us, but we passed nothing but groaning teens that Grue had already dealt with.

Thankfully, they all seemed to be breathing, though a few were losing a lot of blood.

There was another crash as we reached the top of the stairs and a deep voice was shouting from one of the rooms.

Rushing through the door, we found Grue. He had a boy by the hair, he looked older than the others, maybe mid-twenties but it was hard to judge. Grue was slamming his head against the wall, again and again while shouting at him but I couldn't make out what.

Tattletale shouted at Grue to stop as I ran forward. Wrapping my arms around Grue's waist, I tried to pull him away, but he barely seemed to notice me. Squeezing tighter, I tried again and he drove an elbow into my stomach, letting go of the man to finally spin around and face me as I stumbled backwards.

The man slumped to the floor as Grue's fist slammed into my face. The taste of blood filled my mouth as I fell to the floor, bringing my arms up to shield my head against further blows but Tattletale got there first, pressing her taser against Grue's side and pulling the trigger.

He dropped with a scream of rage, but Tattletale didn't let up, shocking him again and again until he finally stopped moving.

"You okay?"

"I bit my cheek," I groaned, lifting my mask enough to spit out some blood. I was going to have one hell of a bruise, but nothing that wouldn't heal. "What about Grue?"

"He'll live," Tattletale muttered, stepping over Grue and gently tilting the boys head. "Can you help him?"

Climbing to my feet, I walked over and knelt down next to her. Whoever he was, Grues victim was beyond my help and I doubted even Panacea could save him now.

He was still breathing, but his open eyes were staring lifelessly ahead. Blood was everywhere, all over the man's face, the wall, the floor. My stomach twisted as I gently prodded his head, feeling the broken skull shift underneath.

"No, he's gone." Which meant Grue had killed at least two people tonight. 'Fuck… and by being here, we're now part of it.'

"Okay, then we need to get out of here," Tattletale said as she pulled a laptop out from under the desk and turned to glare at Grue. "You okay to walk, or are we carrying your stupid ass?"

"They killed her," Grue groaned, slowly uncoiling on the floor. His voice was muffled by the cloud of darkness he was using to hide his face, making it impossible for me to judge what he was feeling as he stumbled to his feet. "They fucking killed her! The bastard admitted it!"

"Dont be so fucking stupid!" Tattletale snapped. "Look around you! These people aren't Empire! They're just a bunch of rich kids trying to piss their parents off!"

"But - "

"No," Lisa hissed, raising her taser threateningly, "you don't get to speak, you've fucked up big time and we're all going to pay! Now shut up and follow me!"

Leading the way back out, Tattletale stopped only briefly when we reached the dealership. Thankfully, Grue's van hadn't caught fire or anything, but given how smashed in the front end was, there was no way it would be driving away from here.

"Asclepia, keep an eye out for the cops. Grue," Tattletale pointed to a boy who had been peering out at us from the storeroom door. "Grab him and bring him over here!"

The boy let out a startled squeak, ducking back out of sight and pushing the door shut.

Sighing, Grue walked forward, pausing only briefly to smash the door open with a well placed kick. There was some scuffling sounds, then he returned with the boy being half dragged, half carried behind him.

Bringing him to Tattletale, Grue slammed the boy into him to the wall near the faceless corpse. The boy who had been sitting next to it had vanished. I doubted he could walk very far, so his friends must have carried him.

"Hey! So, we don't have a lot of time so let's make this quick and painless?" Tattletale chirped. "I'm psychic, if you lie, I'll know and he'll start breaking bones."

Grue drew himself up to full height, pushing the boy against the wall and making him flinch.

"I don't know anything!" the boy all but screamed.

These weren't gangsters. Living on the street, I'd learned to spot the real thing, the killers from the kids playing dress-up. There was always an air about them, a constant feeling of danger that wasn't present here.

I'd be surprised if any of them had really been in a fight for their lives before. They were just a bunch of kids and Grue had rolled over them like something out of a horror movie.

'Does that make me a monster too?' I thought to myself, staring morosely at the street outside.

"Sure you do." Lisa poked his arm and the boy hissed in pain. "Grue didn't do that. In fact, he never laid a hand on you. That happened nearly a month ago, when you attacked a young girl…"

"I don't-" he started to protest, but Grue slammed him into the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. While he recovered, Lisa reached around to pull his wallet from his jeans. With deliberate slowness, she opened it and removed a driving licence.

"So, Owen, when your boss upstairs passed his initiation you were there. You found a young girl walking around alone and attacked her. She put up a fight, that's how your arm got hurt… what happened to her?"

"I don't know what you-" Grue drove his fist into the drywall next to Owen's head, muscles flexing under his dark skin as he slowly pulled his fist out of the hole.

"Next time, it's your skull!" he hissed.

Tattletale shot Grue a dirty look, but didn't say anything as a dark stain spread across Owen's jeans.

"Okay, okay!" he shouted. "Yes, I was there! She mouthed off at Darren so we chased her down. Bitch had a knife but there was more of us-"

"Always is... " Grue muttered, his distorted voice making Owen shiver. "Where. Is. She!"

Owens squeaked as Grue lifted him off the ground. Tattletale placed a hand on Grue's arm in warning.

"I don't know!" Owen wailed. "We chased her into an alley, I don't know where! We got a few hits in but someone took a shot at us so we ran!"

"Not before someone took a picture?" Lisa said with a frown. "No, video. You recorded it as proof to the Empire…"

Owen trembled as Lisa patted his jacket, reaching in to pull a phone and a set of keys from the pockets. Tapping at the screen, Lisa started flicking through the phone while I took another quick look outside through the whole Grue's van had made.

There were sirens in the distance. This was a bad part of town, response was slow, but the police were finally on their way.

"We need to leave!"

"Right," pocketing the phone, Tattletale looked towards Grue, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he drove a fist into Owen's stomach so hard that I swear I heard his ribs break with a wet pop.

"We'll take Owen's car, I'll drive!" She said, ignoring Owen and giving Grue a dirty look.

Moving quickly, Tattletale led us outside and I had to fight the urge to look back at slaughter behind us. Dwelling on it wouldn't do any good and most of them had survived.

Owen's car, a small, but expensive-looking, compact was parked around the back in the shadow of the dealership.

Pulling the driver side door open, Tattletale glared at Grue, her eyes shining in the streetlights.  
"Grue, get in the back and lay down!" she snapped, "Asclepia, you sit in the front with me."

Nodding, I didn't say anything as we climbed into the car. What could I say? This whole situation had gone from bad to fucked up in less than thirty minutes.

Once Grue and I were inside, Tattletale pulled away at a sedate pace, reaching up to yank her ski mask off. Doing the same, I ruffled my hair in an effort to put some life back into it. I hated having it this short, but it was necessary if I wanted to go unnoticed.

We all sat in silence as Lisa drove. We'd barely made it a block when a cop car shot past us in the other direction, sirens blaring. I doubt they even noticed us, just a pair of teenagers doing the limit in a nice little compact car.

The quiet was getting oppressive as we moved further away from the scene, the only sound being Brian's heavy breathing from the back seat and a glance over my shoulder showed he was still covering his face. Part of me wanted to say something to him, to try and offer some sort of comfort, but after what he'd just done, the greater part of me wasn't feeling too charitable.

I almost jumped out of my seat when Lisa put a hand on my leg and gave it a gentle squeeze. She had an apologetic smile on her face, the streetlights making her look washed out and highlighting the dark rings around her eyes.

Putting my hand on hers, I did my best to give her a comforting smile of my own before she turned her focus back to driving.

We'd gone another couple of blocks before Lisa pulled over in an empty lot in ABB territory.

Sighing, she took Owen's phone from her pocket, the light from the screen highlighting the frown on her face as she tapped at the screen.

"So," she said eventually, "those idiots weren't Empire, not really. Their leader, the one whose head you smashed in? He was Empire, the rest were just stupid kids. Thankfully, he never managed to call for help when you did your 'kool aid-man' impression."

Brian's darkness faded away as he glared pointedly out of the window, his eyes noticeably red.

"They said-"

"They were talking shit." Not looking up from the phone, Lisa didn't really sound angry anymore, just exhausted. "Yes, they found Aisha, and yes, they attacked her, but they didn't kill her. Its all here," she nodded at Owen's phone, "someone fired a gun and they scattered, Aisha vanished in the confusion."

Shoulders dropping slightly, Brian looked between us, his eyes lost.

"So… where does that leave us?"

"Back at square one," Lisa said with a groan. Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. "... fuck 'm tired."

She could only use her power for short periods. Too much in one day would leave her with crippling migraines. I'd seen it happen often enough to know when one was starting. Between Aisha's room and that interrogation, she must have pushed her power too hard.

"Come on, Let's get out of here," I said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'll make you some painkillers when we get back to the hotel."

"... I think I love you," Lisa muttered and I laughed.

"Love you too, now come on, we still need to torch the car."

Once we were out of the car, I popped open the hood. It didn't take much to set a car alight and it was kinda depressing that I'd had so much practice at it.

Cut the fuel lines, pop the gas cap. A scrap of cloth from one of the seats and a spark from Lisa's taser soon had the car smouldering away. By the time anyone noticed, the car would be ablaze.

Lisa's migraine was in full force as we walked away, forcing her to lean on me for support. It would have been easier if we still had a car, but there was no way we could have kept it. The police would be looking for it soon and leaving it intact would be asking for trouble.

Brian followed sullenly behind us for a while before breaking off and heading for home, the air between us all still tense. I couldn't even imagine what was going through his head right now. He'd come this close to finally having a solid lead, only for it to all fall apart.

"Taylor?" Lisa muttered as we got close to the hotel, "when this is over… will you come with me again?"

Some of the tension in my chest eased at her words and I gave her a one-armed hug. "Always."

* * *

AN chapter beta'd by: WhoAmEye the glorious and vain angelic overlord of anxious teenagers and useless lesbians (yes, she wrote that)

If you enjoy my content and would like to support me, please consider supporting me on Paytron


	5. Interlude 1

**Homecomming  
Interlude 1**

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor echoed in his mind, drowning out all other sounds. The world around him was nothing more than vague shapes and indistinct colours as various doctors and nurses moved around the unconscious body of his son.

Trent, his son, was as pale as the sheets, his face a swollen mess of bruises. One of his arms was above the sheet, with a tube running into a bag of fluid, exposing a series of fresh tattoos that Frank had never seen before.

The police called them gang tags. The very idea made his blood boil. Trent wasn't some fucking loser from the ghetto; he'd never join a fucking _gang_.

"Excuse me, Mr Ramson?" A doctor came into the room, a tall, slim man with a receding hairline and stubble that he was trying to pass off as a beard.

"Don't apologise," Frank snapped. Apologies were a sign of weakness, and he loathed weakness. "Just tell me, when will my son wake up?"

If the doctor was perturbed by Frank's tone, he didn't show it.

"... there's no easy way to say this, but Trent's injuries are extremely severe. He's sustained multiple skull fractures. We won't be able to tell the full extent of the damage until the swelling in his brain goes down, but —"

"When," Frank growled, rising from his seat and turning to glare at the simpering moron, "will he wake up?"

"I'm sorry." The doctor shook his head. "In cases like this… if he was going to wake up, it would have happened already. Once the swelling goes down, we will be making arrangements to move him to long-term care. I —"

"How much?"

"Excuse me?"

"How much do I need to donate to the hospital to get Panacea here?" Frank wasn't rich, but his dealership made enough that he could pull together a few thousand if needed.

"I'm —"

Frank waved a finger pointedly, and the doctor cut himself off before starting again.

"It doesn't work like that. The hospital can't force Panacea to treat any—"

"Yeah, right. The best healer in the city and you just let her come and go, treating people as she pleases? Now tell me, how much?"

"Mr Ramson, even if that were true, there would still be _nothing_ she could do. Panacea is unable to treat brain damage. Now, I am _truly sorry_, but there is nothing else that can be done at this point."

Straightening his white coat, the doctor turned on his heel and strode from the room.

Frank watched him go, fury burning in his gut. How _dare_ that useless quack dismiss him like that! Clenching his fists, he almost stormed after the man, only to run into his wife as she entered the room.

"Frank? What's going on?"

He barely glanced at her; instead, he turned his head and took a deep breath. He forced the anger down, pushing it back into its cage for later.

"Nothing," he said eventually. "Stay here, I need to meet someone."

"Frank, please. You promised, no more!"

Ignoring her, he walked out of the room. What good were promises when his son was never going to wake up?

##

The anger kept him company as he drove, like an old familiar friend.

Anger at Trent, for getting himself into this mess. Anger at the doctors for not being any use, at the police for handing the case over to the PRT (who would do nothing), at the reporter who had the utter gall to call the attack 'just another gangland fight'.

And finally, anger at the city, for letting some fucking nigger beat his son's head against the wall until he broke.

So fine, if the city wouldn't deal with its shit, he would just have to take matters into his own hands.

Stopping a little harder than he meant to, Frank grunted as the seat belt pulled tight. Cursing, he untangled himself and climbed out of the car.

His pace was slow and measured as he walked up the short path to the house, well aware of the twitching curtains from the houses around him. Well, he wasn't going to give them a spectacle to gossip about.

Even so, despite his best efforts to remain outwardly calm, the sound of his fist on the front door still echoed through the street. When no one answered, he banged again, harder this time. He was considering kicking the door in when it opened and a short, slim man stepped out.

"What do you want now, Frank?"

"I want to talk to Chris." It wasn't a request. "I know he was there. I need to know what happened."

"Don't you think he's been through enough?"

Leaning forward, Frank's voice was nearly a whisper. "_My_ _son_ may never wake up… so don't give me that shit."

Stepping back, the man watched him fearfully for a moment. He was gripping the door so tightly his knuckles were white, ready to slam it closed if Frank so much as twitched.

"F-fine!" he said eventually, turning his head to look away. "But if you so much as raise your voice at him, I'll —"

"Whatever, Paul. Just make sure he talks."

Stepping forward, he followed Paul into the house. He was led into the small dining room and took a seat at the table when instructed, clasping his hands together in front of him in an effort to hide the shaking.

It seemed to take Chris an age to appear, leaving Frank to fill the room with an angry air that only slightly diminished when the boy did arrive, hobbling into the room with his father at his side.

Chris was a mess. One eye was covered by a taped-down patch, with a haunted, broken look in his remaining bloodshot eye. His arm was in a sling, and he moved with a heavy limp. If Frank hadn't known better, he'd have thought the kid had been hit by a car.

Huffing, he waved at the chair furthest from himself in an effort to put the boy at ease. Threats wouldn't work here.

"How're you holding up, Chris?" Frank said as gently as he could, fighting to keep the anger at bay.

Chris shrugged, staring fixedly at the table.

Sharing a look with Paul, Frank tried again. "Chris... what happened that night? Why does Trent have Empire tattoos? I need to know..."

Sighing, Paul leaned forward, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "It's okay, you're not in trouble. Just take your time."

Silence filled the room, and just as Frank's frayed patience was about to give out, Chris spoke.

"T-Trent joined the Empire." His voice was barely above a whisper, with a slight slurring to his words as his bruised jaw struggled to form words.

"Why?" Frank asked, his grip on his hands tightening.

"We ushed to see them at school," Chris muttered. "They were cool. They alwaysh had nice cars or hot girls with them and no one gave them shit… they let ush hang out with them… one of the girls… she didn't go to our school, but she was really into Trent. She convinced him to join… Said they could only be together if he was sherious…"

Frank kept his expression calm. There would be time enough to ask about the girl later, but right now, he needed to know about his son's attack.

"What happened that night? Why were you even in that place? Trent was supposed to be here, with you."

Chris shook his head. "We were celebrating… Trent had passhed his initiation and Chloe had taken him to get his tattoo… she gave him some beers, told us to ushe the old dealership and have some fun… We'd only been there a little, it was just getting dark when we heard thish van come roaring up the street… it smashed into the window, there was glass everywhere and then everything went black..."

"Did you see who it was?"

"N-not at first… everything was black… I couldn't hear, couldn't _shee_. Someone shot me in the arm and I dropped to the floor but someone grabbed me and started hitting me. I don't know who it was… when I could shee again, I could hear people shouting so I hid and waited until they left… There were three of them. A man and two women, they came later, I think they were looking for the man… they argued…"

"What did they look like? Did you see their faces?"

Tears were running down Chris' face and his shoulders were shaking as he struggled to speak. "They were wearing masks… all of them looked like they worked out. One of the girls was really tall. She had black hair, the other was blonde, but the guy was different… he had dark skin and a cloud of smoke or something covering his head… I think he was a cape, one of the girls called him _Grue…_ I don't know why they were there, we weren't bothering anybody..."

Sobbing, Chris slumped forward, covering his face with hand as his dad pulled him into a tight hug.

"Isn't that enough?!" Paul hissed, glaring at Frank.

"No, not yet," he muttered, climbing to his feet. "Chloe, where can I find her?"

"I-I can't!" Chris sobbed, and Frank held his hand up.

"I'm not going to cause trouble," he said gently, "I only want to talk to her, that's all. I promise you won't get into trouble. Please, for Trent's sake."

Chris stared up at him, his good eye swimming in tears. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"… she works part time on the boardwalk, there's a shop called Verrier Clothing. I think her parents own it or something…"

Nodding, Frank left the room, stopping only briefly to pat Chris gently on the shoulder.

"Look after yourself, kid. No one else will," he muttered as he passed.

##

Verrier Clothing had been fairly easy to find, once Frank had stopped off at the bank and found somewhere to park.

It was one of the many small clothing stores that littered the boardwalk, its glass windows shining in the afternoon light.

Stepping inside, Frank found a young woman standing behind the counter, her dark-rimmed eyes slightly red and her face blotchy. A plastic tag was clipped to her blouse with the name 'Chloe' stamped on it.

"Good afternoon," she said in what she clearly hoped was a 'happy' tone but wasn't. "Welcome to Verrier Clothing, can I help you?"

"Can you tell me why my son is in the hospital?" Frank growled, leaning on the counter, and he was satisfied to see her shrink back in fear.

"I… I didn't know!" she hissed, her eyes growing damp. "If I'd known there was a _cape_ nearby, I would never have —"

"Save it," he snapped, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a roll of bills. "I'm not interested in apologies. I want to talk to one of your capes, now, and I'm willing to pay."

He slapped the bills down on the counter, watching as her eyes widened.

"I, I can't," she hissed, "I don't know any of the capes, I don't do anything important…"

"But you know people who are," he said, leaning forward. "I _know_ how this works. You know someone who knows someone. Start making calls or I'll go to the police with everything I know about you and your friends."

He was lying, of course. The police had already had their chance as far as he was concerned, and they'd blown it.

Turning on a heel, he marched towards the door. "I'll be across the road getting a coffee when your cape is ready to meet me…"

##

Forty minutes. That's how long it took Chloe to come running with an address in the southern parts of the city and assurances that a cape would meet him there.

Bringing his truck to a stop, Frank glared at a squalid bar. The fake wood panel walls were peeling and the windows so dirty they were nearly black. A faded sign above the door said 'Bad Wolf' in cracked paint.

Finding an empty parking space, Frank sent the address to Paul with instructions to pass it on to the cops in an hour, just in case, before climbing out of his truck.

Giving the front door a push, the smell of stale beer and sweat greeted him as he walked inside. The old carpet pulled at his shoes with a wet sucking sound as he walked, and the dim lights above threw long shadows across the bar.

Maybe half a dozen people sat scattered around, skulking in the shadows. Most were focusing on their drinks, but a few were eyeing him speculatively.

Ignoring them, Frank strode up to the bar and nodded to the barkeeper, a man in his forties with a messy beard and filthy shirt that was covered in stains.

"I'm here to meet someone," he said. The barkeep gave him a long look before jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to a nearby door.

"Upstairs, second door on the left. Don't try to be clever. Understood?"

Grunting, Frank walked through the door and up the stairs. Opening the door, he was surprised to find himself in an immaculately kept room with a large table.

The carpets were freshly cleaned, if Frank was any judge, and the well-polished table shone under the lights. Sitting at the far end was a man in a breastplate with a large V-neck that had been painted black. Under it, he wore a blood red shirt with black pants and, more importantly, a black mask.

"Ah, you must be Mr Ramson," the cape said, waving at the empty chair opposite him. "I'm very sorry to hear about your son. What happened to him and his friends was a tragedy."

Grunting, Frank sat down. He didn't think for a moment that this cape cared about his son. Capes didn't care about anyone but themselves. Regardless, he would play along.

"Thank you. That's why I'm here, actually."

The cape sighed theatrically, "That's what I thought. I hate to say it, but I don't think the Empire can help. While it's true we have a healer, her power requires conscious effort from the patient. Unless your son wakes up, she can't do anything."

"You're very well informed on his condition…"

"The Empire does look out for our own. Still, I'd hate to think you came all this way for nothing; perhaps I can treat you to a drink?"

Shaking his head, Frank reached into his jacket and removed the large stack of bills he had hidden there. Placing it on the table, he pushed it forwards.

"I didn't come here to get my son healed." In truth, he hadn't even known about the Empire having a healing cape. "What I want is justice. A cape hurt my son, some dark-skinned piece of shit from the ghetto. Apparently, his name is _Grue._"

Almost idly, the cape leafed through the bills with his thumb, only to stop, his eyes narrowing, when Frank mentioned the name.

"You are sure of this?"

"Yes."

"You realise we are not mercenaries —"

"Then call it a donation, but I'll double it if you can bring Grue to me alive."

Smirking, the cape stood up, pocketing the money as he rose and holding his other hand out. "Very well, Mr Ramson. I gratefully accept this donation on behalf of Empire Eighty-Eight. It's thanks to good people like you and your son that we are able to survive in these trying times, and we will do all we can to see justice done."

Rising himself, Frank reached out and shook his hand.

"Just make the bastard pay."


	6. Chapter 6

**Homecomming  
2-1**

It had been nearly two weeks since some idiot had taken out those skinheads at the old car dealership, and the tension was reaching breaking point.

The news was blaming 'gang bangers', and the parents of the skinheads were all over the news, teary-eyed and shouting about their 'perfect children who had never done anything wrong'. Protests from 'concerned citizens' had sprung up near town hall, calling for more policing, more stop checks, harsher punishments for carrying weapons, and anything else they could think of.

It made Franklin sick. Where were the 'concerned citizens' when a cape put one of his friends in hospital? The police had eventually ruled it the actions of a rogue vigilante and handed the case over to the PRT.

"Vigilante my ass," Franklin muttered to himself. His buddy looked like he'd been shoved face-first into a blender, and he could think of exactly one Empire cape who could do that.

That's why Franklin and his friends were here, sitting outside as the sun set, guarding the streets where they lived. Empire tags had been showing up in the area over the last couple of days; the Nazis were clearly getting ready for something, and they wanted to be ready.

"You really think this is a good idea?" Tabi asked, sitting down on the porch next to him and relaxing in the cool air.

"You got a better idea?" he grunted. She was new to the area; she'd been crashing at Marcy's for a couple of weeks now.

"Fuck no."

"Exactly. Unless we wanna go into Nazi territory and fight their capes, this is all we can do."

Opening her mouth, Tabi went to speak, only to fall silent as a car came round the corner.

Franklin didn't know the make or model, just that it looked fast. Metallic red with windows tinted black, the hair on his neck rose as he realised the licence plate had been covered with black tape.

"Get down!" Jumping to his feet, he pushed Tabi to the side as the car slowed down and one of its darkened windows opened. The others were already running for cover as a gun emerged and someone inside screamed insults.

Gunfire echoed through the street, a round passing his ear with a crack, and Franklin threw himself forward.

Having achieved their goal, the driver put his foot down, tires screaming as the car struggled for traction. Further up the road, Lamar jumped out from behind a wall, the gun in his hand firing wildly.

It was barely audible over the noise of gunshots and screaming tires, but Franklin swore he heard the shattering of glass as the car shot forward, swerving hard suddenly and slamming in a street light.

Franklin scrambled to his feet, grabbing his own gun from the ground even as the skinhead jumped out of the car. There were four of them in total, but two sprinted off, guns in hand, and Lamar went down in a hail of bullets.

The third hesitated, trying for a moment to get the driver free, then giving up and following the others.

Franklin chased after them, the rest of his 'gang' following as the skinheads ran into an alley he _knew_ was a dead end.

Realising they had no way out, the Nazis turned around and opened fire, shooting at anything that moved.

Diving behind a low wall, Franklin tried to make himself as small as he could as concrete rained down on him.

'_This is insane!_' Pointing his own gun over the wall, Franklin fired back.

Tabi hit the wall next to him, pressing a hand against her arm in an effort to stop the bleeding.

"Fucking Nazis!" she hissed, blood running between her fingers as she continued to curse, but her complaints were drowned out by the shouting around them.

They had to finish this quickly. The cops would be slow, if they came at all, but sooner or later someone would get brave and try to storm the alley or the Nazis would do something stupid, like trying to hop the fence and running through gardens, and more people would get hurt.

He was trying to think of something to break the stalemate when a van came down the road. It looked beat to all hell, its engine straining to keep it moving as it swerved around the crashed Empire car.

"Shit, more of them!" Franklin shouted and he could hear the Nazis cheering. One of them must have called for help; now he was trapped between them and their reinforcements.

His heart was in his mouth as the van skidded to a stop, the side door being thrown open and a cloud of darkness pouring out.

A man in worn bike leathers and helmet jumped out, the white skull painted on his visor standing out against the cloud of darkness before it vanished from view.

"Cape!" someone shouted as the cloud moved down the street, swallowing people as it went.

"Don't move," Tabi hissed. "Let _him _deal with the Nazis."

Franklin glanced at her, but before he could speak, the darkness closed on him and the world vanished. He couldn't see, couldn't hear anything. If it wasn't for the wall behind him, he wasn't even sure he'd know which way was up.

Then, as quickly as it came, the darkness vanished.

Shivering, he rose up and looked over the wall, watching as the cloud poured into the alley, unable to see or hear the Nazis.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked, damn near scaring him out of his skin. Spinning around, Franklin found himself looking at a freaky white mask looking out from a heavy hood, the lenses of the eyes reflecting the streetlights.

She dropped to her knees next to Tabi. "Here, let me." From the voice, he assumed the cape was a girl, though the coat and height made it a little hard to tell.

"Who the fuck are you?" Tabi glared at the girl, pulling away slightly.

"I'm Apothecary," the cape said gently. "Now can I look at your arm, or do you want to bleed out?"

"... fine."

Nodding, Apothecary leaned forward, examining the wound closer as she gently cleaned the blood away with a wet-wipe. "You're lucky," she mumbled, "looks like a graze so no bullet fragments… sorry, this is going to sting."

Pulling a small plastic bottle from one of the pouches on her belt, she popped the lid open with her thumb and gently shook a red powder over the wound.

"This will help seal the wound. I have something else that will help speed up the healing, but you need to wait for the bleeding to stop."

Gritting her teeth, Tabi hissed but she didn't pull away.

"You need me to do anything?" Franklin offered, sparing another glance back to the alley.

"Is anyone else injured? If you gather them together, I think I can help," the cape said, putting a dressing on Tabi's arm and using a bandage to keep it in place, the red powder staining the white cloth. "Oh, and maybe somewhere I can work?"

"... right…"

Confused by the turn the night had taken, Franklin stood up just in time to see a cape in purple climb out of the van, her blonde hair blowing loose in the wind. She kept her hands up as she walked forward and a smile that could almost be friendly on her face.

"Easy, I'm with them. We're _not_ Empire," she said as she got close. "You're in charge here, right?"

Looking around, Franklin was shocked to see his buddies looking at him from their cover.

"Looks like it, I guess."

"Great!" she chirped. "That makes this —"

She stopped, looking past Franklin as the cape in leather walked out of the alley. He had one of the Nazis walking in front of him, hands tied behind his back.

"Couple of broken bones, but they're alive." The cape's voice was deep with an unnerving echo that made Franklin's skin crawl. The cape shoved the Nazi to the ground in front of them. "Figured this one could send a message."

"Works for me," the blonde girl muttered, before quickly digging through the skinhead's pockets for his wallet.

"So… " She flipped open the wallet and pulled out a driving license. "...Joe, you have two choices. The first, is that we leave you and your friends at the mercy of the people you just tried to kill. Or, we take you outside our territory, drop you off and you deliver a nice simple message."

Around them, a crowd was forming as Lamar and the others slowly came out of hiding. Most of them were holding a weapon of some kind. Franklin knew, just like the skinhead had to, that the moment the capes left, the Nazis would be dead.

"Yo!" someone hissed from the growing crowd. "That's the dude the Nazis are looking for."

He clearly hadn't been quiet enough, as both capes and the skinhead all turned to look at him.

"A small-time street gang," the blonde muttered to the darkness cape before her smile widened. "They're not much, but they might be helpful."

"...Fine," the cape ground out. "But let's deal with this first."

##

[Taylor]

While Grue and Tattletale were not-so-gently loading the Empire thugs into the van they had 'borrowed', I was following Tabi into her home. Behind us two more people were carrying a third, blood staining his shirt.

"In here." Tabi waved to the kitchen, and I stepped around her, snatching the few personal items off the table to make room.

"Lay him down, gently!" I snapped, pulling equipment from various pouches on my costume.

"Anything we can do to help?" the younger of the two boys said, looking down at his friend.

"You got a first aid kit or something?" I quickly pulled my gloves off and dropped them to the floor, replacing them with a pair of blue surgical gloves from a sealed packet that I'd kept in my pocket. "I'm still a bit low on supplies and do any of you know how to stitch a wound?"

"I do," the bigger of the boys said, stepping forward. He was pale, but it didn't look like he was going to be sick or anything.

"Perfect, the rest of you, get out!" I pointed at Tabi. "Not you. I need tweezers, the longest set you can find!"

Nodding, she ran out of the room. I shouldn't have been doing this. This guy needed a hospital and a real doctor, but we didn't have a choice. He would be dead before an ambulance could get here.

Injecting the injured man with one of my strongest painkillers, I was in the process of cutting his shirt open with my knife when the young boy returned, a battered-looking box in his hands.

"This was all I could find!" He stared in open horror at the bloody mess that was his friend's chest.

"It'll do, open it up and put it there." I pointed to a space on the counter. "Pass me stuff when I ask for it."

_One hit to the lung… another to the shoulder…_

The world around me fell away as I went to work, grabbing things from my equipment or barking the occasional order. My power guided my fingers as I pulled each bullet out, sealing off the wounds with some clotting powder and boosting his healing overall with one of my epipens.

While my hands worked, I gave the people around me orders. They weren't as quick or intuitive as Tattletale, but they did what they were told and were able to keep the patient stable while I converted an old soccer ball and funnel into a makeshift breathing apparatus.

It wasn't perfect, but it would be enough to keep him breathing. I slipped back into my power and continued to work.

I didn't often let my power take over like this, not without Lisa or someone around to keep an eye on me, but if I didn't do it, if I stopped and let myself feel, then I'd make a mistake.

Maybe it wasn't healthy, but it was easier like this. I could just cut myself off from everything and just work. It wasn't a living person under my hands, it was a patient, a broken machine that needed mending.

"Apothecary… Apothecary?" When I came back to myself, Tattletale was standing by the door. Looking down, I was just closing the last of the man's wounds. Around me, Tabi and the others were slumped in chairs.

"He's fine," I said quietly, cutting the thread and pulling my gloves off. "Well… no, not fine, fine. He got shot after all and he's gonna _hurt_ when he wakes up so someone should probably get him some painkillers, maybe morphine but be careful! Seriously, that stuff's dangerous. But not until he wakes up, then he'll need bedr—"

Gently, Tattletale took me by the elbow and leaned in close.

"It's okay, breathe."

Nodding, I did as she said, forcing my power and the images back. I hadn't needed to open him up, not this time, but my hands and the table were still covered in blood.

"Grue's chatting to some of the others outside, do you want to join them or —"

I shook my head. I'd be alright, I could hold it together for a bit longer. "I should be there. United front and all that."

Tattletale scoffed, but she didn't argue as she waited for me to ditch the gloves and wash my hands before leading me outside.

##

As it turned out, the meeting was happening next door. Grue and three others were all sitting around a table, the air so thick with tension that it was almost a physical thing.

Everyone in the room turned to look at us as we walked in.

"What happened to Lamar?" the man opposite Grue snapped.

"He's fine. He's sleeping right now and he's going to hurt like hell tomorrow, but he'll live."

"Thank god." Running a hand down his face, the man's shoulders relaxed, and when he looked back at me again, I could see the exhaustion on his face. Glancing at a nearby clock, I realised that it was past midnight.

"Well," Tattletale said, leaning against the wall next to me, "now that's been dealt with, why don't we get down to business? Introductions, this is Grue, Apothecary and I'm Tattletale, we're-"

"The Undersiders, we know," another man with long dark hair snapped, pointing at Grue. "And what 'business' could we possibly have with _you?_ _You're_ the reason this happened. Typical capes, stirring up trouble and leaving us to clean it up!"

"Enough!" the first man -Franklin- groaned. "Carl, sit down. I'm sorry about him, but do you understand what this is like for _us_? Shit, we wouldn't even be a 'gang' if it wasn't for all the skinheads and capes running around this fucking city. Then you go a fuck up some kid and now were all getting shot!"

"That _kid _was a Nazi," Grue leaned forward. "He was bragging about killing… look, we know we fucked up, that's why we are here. We'd like to make a deal."

"_Protection,_" Carl spat, climbing to his feet. "You want _us _to pay _you _to deal with the mess you caused!"

"Not exactly," Tattletale with a shrug. "We're looking for someone. You help us, we help you. It's mutual."

"Is this the part where you say you don't want money?"

Tattletale turned to me with a bright smile. "Apothecary, how much did it just cost to heal 'Lamar'?"

I opened my mouth, ready to snap at Lisa for even asking that. I'd been trying to save his life, that was more important than the fucking costs, but there was something about the look she was giving me that made me answer the question.

"I had to use the regeneration booster, the last of my clotting agent, handwash..." Around me, faces paled as I listed everything I had used and the cost to make more.

"Still cheaper than a trip to the hospital," Grue grunted as I finished. "Look, we're not stupid. You guys carry on, business as normal, only now you cut us in and back us up and we'll deal with any capes that come this way and access to healing from Apothecary-"

"If you bring the supplies she needs," Tattletale snapped. "She can't make medicine from thin air."

Grue nodded, then leaned forward, hand outstretched. "Deal?"

##

[Two days ago]

We were all gathered in Brian's living room, watching the television as the reporter spoke about the 'tragic events' of the last few days and the violent attack on a young boy called Trent.

He'd been hanging out with some friends after school when someone had attacked them, leaving several boys nearly crippled and Trent comatose.

The report was interspersed with pictures of an attractive young man and his friends or the tear-stained faces of their parents.

The police hadn't identified the attacker beyond a vague description of 'dark skin, late teens or early twenties'.

I was pretty sure the reporter had mentioned Brian's skin colour four times before the report had even ended.

"Well," Lisa said with a groan, slumping forward in her seat. "As smear campaigns go, it's a pretty thorough one. The Empire couldn't have asked for a better recruitment pitch. They are going to turn 'Trent' into a martyr, the poster boy for why they are right to do the shit they do."

"He was a thug," Brian muttered, not looking at either of us.

"His parents are well-off and connected to the fucking Empire, Brian. They're going to tear that block apart looking for you."

"And what am I supposed to do about it?" he snapped, standing up and looking down at Lisa.

She glared up at him, and I didn't know if she was just pretending, or if she really wasn't intimidated by him.

"We could help," I said quietly, hoping to defuse the situation before one of them did something they likely wouldn't regret. "Maybe keep the Empire from doing too much harm?"

Brian scoffed. "I thought we went over this already, Taylor. We're not heroes."

I glared back at him, my cheeks growing warm, but Lisa put a hand on my arm.

"We don't need to be," she said with a grin.

##

AN: chapter written under commission

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